


Dead Names

by MikeWritesThings



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Fluff, Gender Dysphoria, M/M, Secret Identity, Trans Octane | Octavio Silva
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:27:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21648292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MikeWritesThings/pseuds/MikeWritesThings
Summary: "I have one of those too."Octavio's face scrunched up in confusion. "...A binder?""No. A dead name."(Or, Octane experiences dysphoria, lets Crypto in on a secret, and Crypto lets him in on one of his own.)
Relationships: Crypto | Park Tae Joon/Octane | Octavio Silva
Comments: 8
Kudos: 86





	Dead Names

**Author's Note:**

> note: for a majority of this fic, Crypto is referred to as "Hyeon", as "Hyeon Kim" is the canon fake name he uses to sign up for the apex games. pretty sure its an alternate spelling to "Hyun" and is pronounced as such.

He was being crushed to death. There was a large, heavy pressure on his sternum, constricting his throat, cracking his ribs, and the pain was starting to make his vision blacken at the edges. He lay curled up in a ball on his bed, a tiny little thing that resembled a beanbag much more than it did a bed, and his arms wrapped around himself as the pain continued.

He struggled to inhale, exhale, to do anything at all as sweat rolled down his face. He would be panting if it weren't for the fact that his lungs were on the verge of collapse.

Octavio _could_ just take the binder off. It was easily doable, as easy as detaching his legs and removing his helmet. It was decidedly safer than sleeping in it. Less of a chance of his ribcage collapsing, less of a struggle to breathe. 

But it had taken him a month to feel comfortable enough around the others to remove his legs in their presence, and even longer to take off his mask. The binder was going to stay on, even if everybody was asleep and he was by himself. He just couldn’t bear to take it off, not now, alone, and certainly not around the others, whom he respected and hoped that they respected him. 

Even if he could feel the aching ghosts of bullets in his chest, demanding to feel cool air, demanding a hard good inhale. Even if every time he moved an electric pain jabbed him in his sides, he didn't want to take it off. He wouldn't.

Octavio suddenly had the feeling that he was being watched, and opened his eyes blearily to look around. At first, he couldn’t tell if anyone was there, but as his vision cleared slightly, he saw the tall figure of his boyfriend standing there, a mug in his hands and looking fairly concerned. He was nothing but a silhouette in the dark, jacket easily recognizable, though occasional flashes of light from the dropship windows illuminated his pinched eyebrows and the mug in his hands, which had an image of a cat flipping its middle finger on it.

Octavio blinked again before sitting up, and when Hyeon noticed that he was awake he quickly looked away and sipped from his mug nonchalantly.

“What?” Octavio asked, sounding rather accusing and loud in the silence of the dropship.

“Nothing,” Hyeon said, and when Octavio glared, admitted, “You were making noises.”

Had he? He hadn’t realized, but then again, the only thing he could focus on right now was pain. Hyeon took a step closer to him, silent, but clearly concerned, even if he tried to hide it behind sips of his drink.

“I’m just,” and here Octavio tried to think of a good enough lie, a good enough excuse for Hyeon to go to bed and not worry about him. “Playing games on my phone. I’m mad that I’m losing.”

Hyeon's face scrunched up, Octavio's attempt having evidently failed. “You’re such an awful liar.”

Octavio gave a groan and fell back onto his bed, which proved to be a mistake when his spine cracked loudly and his ribs responded with a throb that made him see red.

He felt a soft hand touch his shoulder lightly and peeled his eyes open with a grimace, taking in the hard-set line of Hyeon’s mouth and his serious eyes.

“We need to get you out of this,” he said quietly, and it took Octavio a second to realize what he was saying. He jerked away from the other, shaking his head with vigor as he did so, even as his ribs protested all the movement.

“I’ll be fine,” he said, and it was the truth. Half of it, at least. Tomorrow, when they jump off the dropship, the moment he injects stim, he won’t feel pain. And if he does, well, a syringe numbs everything for a while. Even gunshots. Even aching ribs.

A hand slipped under his loose shirt, and it rested on his stomach, comforting and threatening at the same time. He shot Hyeon a glare over his shoulder, but he just raised his eyebrows in a silent challenge. 

The dropship was rocking gently, the ever-present droning being the only thing that broke the silence aside from the constant snores of their fellow Legends. They were being transported to a different planet for some special Christmas event, and they had been onboard for two days now, which was one of the reasons his body hurt so much. He was used to playing games every day, of getting rid of the pain with a jab of a syringe, of waking up in the medbay with his binder off, allowing his ribs a brief rest before putting it right back on. He hadn’t gone this long without stim and syringes in months.

“Tavi-yah,” Hyeon said, and fuck, he hated when he used that nickname, because it was _cute_ and Octavio was suspectible to his boyfriend doing cute things. “Please.”

“I don’t want to,” Octavio said, and before Hyeon could say anything else he let it spill, a feeling nearly as relieving as taking off his binder: “It makes me feel like shit and like a girl because my boobs are just out there you know and yeah everyone already knows I’m trans but them seeing me without my binder just makes it feel more real and makes me feel more awkward because I could technically have my surgery at any time but I haven’t and what if they’re judging me for not getting surgery yet and–”

A hand suddenly covered his mouth, and Hyeon was now awfully close to his face, eyes staring directly into his own and making it harder for him to look away.

“Drink this,” Hyeon said, and moved his hand away from Octavio’s mouth. Glancing down into the mug suspiciously, he took it from his boyfriend and gave the cup a little shake, watching the dark liquid slosh around.

“I don’t drink coffee," he said. " _Sabe desagradable._ "

“It’s not coffee," Hyeon responded.

Curious, Octavio raised the mug to his lips and took a sip, surprised to find that it was hot chocolate, pleasantly warm and rich. Swallowing hurt, but it tasted good.

“Nobody thinks you’re a girl,” Hyeon said in a firm, quiet voice, as Octavio continued drinking to give himself something to do, even if he was in physical pain. “You are a man no matter what. So take off that stupid thing.”

“You’re very comforting.” Octavio said, wiping his milk mustache with the back of his hand. "I almost feel better already."

“I will swap you if you take it off,” Hyeon said, like he hadn’t heard Octavio. “I’ll give you one of my sweaters.”

Hyeon’s sweaters were big, oversized, and most importantly, thick. The exact type of clothes Octavio used to wear before he got a binder, purposely slouching to make his figure seem more masculine. Not only that, but Hyeon’s sweaters probably smelled like him too. A definite bonus.

But then he was reminded of his thin waist, wide hips, the stupid little things on his chest and the thing between his legs that did not match him at all, and he gulped down a large amount of hot chocolate to avoid thinking about it and choked in the process.

“Aish,” Hyeon muttered, clapping him on the back none-too-gently, which just hurt even more and made him visibly wince. _“Mianhe.”_

“S’okay,” Octavio coughed, and every cough made his rib cage feel like caving in. Hyeon was rubbing his back, which felt nice, and he set the mug aside, leaning into the other’s side with a quiet sigh. The pain was subsiding into a dull roar, but his boyfriend’s soft jacket and comfortingly solid presence was there to balance it out.

They were silent for a couple of minutes, Octavio’s breathing getting back under control. Slow, controlled breathing that left him breathless all the same, because every inhale didn’t give him enough air. His lungs hurt too much to breathe in deeply, but the breath he _was_ allowed wasn’t nearly enough. If the pain didn’t kill him, the suffocating surely would.

“Octavio,” Hyeon murmured against his hair, distracting him from his slow death, and he squeezed his eyes shut. Hyeon usually kept his emotions quiet, but he could hear the controlled desperation in the other's voice. “Please.”

Hyeon’s hand moved to his stomach again, rubbing it gently, but then moved further upwards, reaching towards his binder. He didn’t do anything, just rested his fingers against it, and Octavio broke.

“Fine,” he said, and it was more of a snap, but he did it anyways. He moved his arms slowly, because every time he lifted them above a certain angle his ribs screamed at him, and by the time he had finally peeled the blasted thing off Hyeon had disappeared and then reappeared with a large sweater in his hands. He grabbed it from the other instantly, sliding it over his head, and finally took a big inhale.

It still hurt, but not as much as it would have with the binder. He felt both free and cornered at the same time, protected and exposed. His lungs were greedily taking in fresh air, but his brain was screaming that he needed to put the binder back on, that it was the only way he managed to pass as male.

( _Shut up,_ he tried arguing with himself. _I’ve been on T for years. I can pass fine without the binder._

 _But your boobs!!!_ His brain screamed back irrationally. _YOUR BOOBS!!!_ )

Octavio fiddled with the hem of his sweater, trying to give his shaking hands something to do, aware of the fact that Hyeon was watching him and clearly waiting for some sort of reaction. He finally glanced up, glad that the lighting in the dropship was dark enough to hide that his face had gone a little red from the scrutiny.

“Sorry,” Octavio mumbled, the quietest he's been in months. “Sorry.”

Hyeon hummed, and if Octavio didn't know any better, he would think the other looked sad. “What are you sorry for?”

“Being a dumbass.”

Hyeon hummed again, and sat back down beside him. The sad expression–if there had ever been one in the first place–disappeared. “You _are_ kind of dumb.”

“Hey!”

“It’s okay. I like my men stupid.”

Octavio jabbed him hard with his elbow. “You helped me and now you’re harassing me?”

His boyfriend smiled, and Octavio cherished the tilt of his lips and the way his eyes scrunched up. “Yeah.”

They passed into silence again, staring at one another, waiting for the other to speak. The spell was broken when Caustic gave a great huffing snore next door, and they both cracked up into little giggles for no reason at all. They both kept their fists to their mouths, trying to stifle the noise, which was only made harder when the dropship gave a little jolt and they heard Mirage’s snoring, which had previously been steady, stutter before stopping entirely with a surprised gasp.

“Whossat?” They heard him mumble, and Octavio’s ribs were hurting even more from the effort of choking back his laughter. “Hello?”

Mirage let out some more incoherent mumbling before his snoring returned, louder than before.

Hyeon was sitting closer to one of the few light sources in the room, so it was easier for Octavio to see that his whole face had gone red from the effort of masking his laughs, and his heart did something funny in his chest that had nothing to do with binder-related pain.

“God,” Octavio gasped, a little more loudly than he meant to, and Hyeon shushed him quickly. “Maybe we’re both stupid.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hyeon said, though his voice was cracking with humor.

“I’m stupid for keeping this binder on,” Octavio said. “And you’re stupid for caring.”

Hyeon’s suppressed laughter stopped abruptly, and he suddenly regarded Octavio with a steadily serious and challenging look. “I’m dumb for being worried about my boyfriend?”

That word coming from Hyeon made Octavio’s stomach squirm. It reminded him of the fact that their relationship was real, that he had really broken down the other’s barriers and had the privilege of seeing him quietly laugh his ass off at three in the morning, had the privilege of being the subject of the other's concerns and on the receiving end of his comfort.

“That’s right,” Octavio said, and closed his eyes, leaning against the other like he had earlier, fighting back the swell of emotions that threatened to overtake him. “Now you have to put up with me being dysphoric.”

“I don’t mind,” Hyeon said. “...That came out wrong? I mean, I do not mind that you vent about those things, but I wish you didn’t feel that way.”

“Me too,” he said, and his good mood came crashing down as quickly as it had come. He resisted the urge to run his hands over his chest, especially with it being as sensitive as it was right now. “It’s just...”

They both were quiet as Octavio struggled to put it into words, and the quiet went on even longer before he decided to trust his boyfriend with a piece of information hardly anybody else knew.

“It’s just, when it’s off...my brain is telling me I’m not Octavio anymore. I’m Alejandra. I’m back to the way I was before I came out.” He remembered those days of private school, of a mandated uniform skirt and several detentions from wearing slacks beneath that skirt. “I know it’s not true, but it just feels that way.”

“Alejandra,” Hyeon repeated, and he flinched at hearing that name come out of the other’s lips. “Wh...oh.”

A pause.

“Your name,” his boyfriend said lamely. “That was. Your old name.”

“Dead name,” Octavio said.

“Right. Dead. I don’t like it.”

He gave a laugh. “Me either.”

Hyeon blinked at him, slow and cat-like, and his mouth opened once before closing, lips thinning into a line as his hands found Octavio’s waist. After a long moment of deliberation, in which their eyes never left each other, Hyeon said, “I have one of those too.”

Octavio frowned. “...A binder?”

“No. An old name.”

The hands on his waist squeezed, fingers digging into his skin lightly. It didn’t hurt. It felt more comforting than anything.

“It is still my name. Hyeon is a fake name.”

Now Octavio was confused. “ _Que?_ ”

Hyeon(?) turned his head to the side, gazing out into the dropship and not responding. Octavio turned too, before realizing that the other was clearly trying to make sure that everyone else was still asleep, before he spoke again.

“My real name is Taejoon Park.”

Octavio stared at his boyfriend for a long time, trying to think of why that name sounded so familiar, but his brain drew a blank. Hyeon–no, Taejoon, was staring at him expectantly, almost as if he had anticipated the brief flicker of recognition in Octavio’s eyes.

“I’ll explain later,” Taejoon promised, leaning forward hesitantly, and when Octavio didn’t jerk away from him, pressed a kiss to the juncture of his neck. “When we’re somewhere more private. There is no audio recording in this room, but there are still cameras.”

“Why...” Octavio swallowed, and something like excitement blazed inside of him. He didn’t feel angry about Hyeon being a fake name, didn’t feel wary or scared of the other, but felt anticipation. An adrenaline rush similar to the one he got in the Ring. “Why do you have a fake name?”

“I’m not like you,” Taejoon said, smiling, but Octavio could tell from his body language that he was immensely relieved. Why, he could only guess. “But I’ll tell you. I promise.”

“Why did you tell me your real name in the first place?”

“You told me your dead name. It only felt fair.” Taejoon’s eyes suddenly blazed, serious. “Taejoon is a dead name too. Do not utter it in front of others. Do not tell anyone it.”

“Got it. I’m used to pretending certain names don’t exist.”

“And please, Tavi-yah.” The hands on his waist squeezed again, before moving up to gently cup his face. Despite the gentleness of his actions, Octavio could feel the warning in his tone, the threat and desperation and fear all at once, rolled up into a tight ball of rubber bands on the verge of snapping. “Don’t look up my name. Not before I can tell you who I am.”

The excitement only grew in size, and Octavio fought back a grin. “Alright. _Lo promento._ "

Taejoon gave a grin of his own. “Good.”

The kiss right after was like a seal; a promise that wouldn't be broken.

**Author's Note:**

> this is short i just wanted to put out some more trans octane in this world. thankyou
> 
> ty to jami 😔😔 i keep giving u shout outs in these fics and thats bc i love u and u put up with me 😔 who else will i play apex with other than u
> 
> translations:  
> korean:  
> 'tavi-yah': ah/yah is a suffix added to korean names. it depends on if the name ends in a vowel or not. example: taejoon-ah, elliott-ah. octavio-yah, anita-yah. 'tavi-yah' is just octavio shortened with the suffix added on for a cute nickname because hes bad with pet names ANSUSJSJ.  
> aish: to my understanding the meaning of this word depends on the context, but here its a mild swear, kind of just a damn/oh crap  
> ***yongseohae jugil barayo: sorry/please forgive me  
> ***EDIT JAN-20-21: this has been changed to simply "mianhe", the previous sentence i used was incorrect :]***
> 
> spanish:  
> sabe desagradable: it tastes nasty  
> que: what .  
> lo promento: i promise  
> i feel like the korean tls are always much longer bc i speak spanish so it always comes easier/natural for me whereas i feel like i have to explain So Much for korean LMAO. but dont be afraid to point out incorrect stuff!
> 
> [tumblr](https://seerofmike.tumblr.com)  
> [twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/tsodmike?lang=en)  
> 


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